The woman's hand, decorated with rings, was squeezing the sides of her throat; the gun stuffed in the blondes mouth. Breathy whimpers slipping past her lips, and mascara dripping down her puffy, red cheeks.
Renata tittered, her haughty tugging the...
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After Magnolia talked to the woman in the graveyard, she got her phone number and name; Susan Bridge. The name was very familiar yet a distant memory? Something that she had likely heard a couple of times in her childhood yet remained utterly clueless with it.
Walking through the streets of New York had her wondering about everything: her childhood, forgotten family members, the future. All things that she shouldn't be focusing on. She escaped to run away from that and everything she knew for her own deserved peace. Yet why does she find herself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering about what could have been if she had stayed?
Staying was never guaranteed, whether it was alive or mentally there, her brother would only become their father 2.0 with more sinister behaviour and exceedingly dangerous. It's in his blood.
Tears pricked at her eyes, the uncomfortable swelling of salty water clouding her vision and the weather change from grey clouds to thunder and rain made it worse, she could hardly see except the lights and short distance. People running through the streets with their jackets over their heads, many waving a taxi cab, the rare person being unbothered by the striking water that was hammering down onto the grounds - provide a cleansing feel for the dirty concrete. Sounds of honks and screeches echo through the area. The odd rat she saw cowering for shelter, she saw a stray run towards her in the short distance, before she could even comprehend what it was doing out in this weather, she was suddenly tripped up by the large mutt and its lead, falling onto the wet concrete. However, luck was seemingly not on her side, as she slipped about and her palms sliding on the ground, a stinging sensation resulting in a hiss.
"Billy!" A woman shouted as she ran to catch her dog, completely oblivious to the fact she stepped on Magnolia's hand with her heavy boots.
Pain spread through Magnolia's now red hand, she hissed and groaned from the pain of falling, slipping, then being trampled on. She stayed on her knees and hands for a few seconds before embarrassment began to settle in, cautious of other New-Yorkers seeing her disheveled state.
She clung onto the wall next to her, standing up slowly but not quietly as small whimpers left her lips, she attempted to wiggle her trampled fingers but was only met with excruciating pain and a chocked sob. She looked at her palms all cut up from saving her a potential concussion, small cuts and scrapes everywhere. Looking down at her knees, she noticed that her leggings had torn and down her banged up knee was bleeding profusely, the other not looking great either. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to cry, or die. Both seemed appealing.
In all her pain and sadness, she was oblivious to the boots that clicked against the floor, echoing the near-empty street. She was oblivious to the fact that a woman she nearly hates, was watching the entire thing, clueless to the anger in her steps as she stalked towards her - furious because someone had dared to hurt her precious flower. It would take her a millisecond to find the bitch, but right now her main focus is her wellbeing, vengeance will come later.
